Sisters
by Orangeblossom
Summary: If you took all the recurring female characters from TOS, TNG, DS9 and VOY, you'd have a whole command crew. Wouldn't *that* make an interesting show?


Sisters

Nyota Uhura stretched lazily as she awoke, then snapped to attention, startled.

The light was all wrong in her quarters.

She twisted and looked behind her and saw, not the familiar brightly-colored wallhanging from her native Africa above her bed, but a large viewport showing the elongated chromatic blur of stars at warp speed.

The lieutenant touched the surface of the viewport and found it warm. _Transparent aluminum can't do that—it's too good a conductor,_ she thought. _What can possibly withstand the stresses of warp speed and support a hull's superstructure and yet not be an opaque metal and not conduct outside temperature?_

She took a deep breath and, willing herself to assess the situation calmly, she turned to face forward again. There was nothing threatening, after all, in the soft bedcovers (made of a fabric she'd never felt before, she realized) or the bed itself, larger and offering more support than the inelegant bunk she was used to. Directly across from the foot of her bed was, not a tall space-saving dresser that slid into the wall, but a low dresser on permanent display, on top of which was an arrangement of flowers. Earth flowers, she noted, recognizing the white Dutch tulips drooping gracefully over a familiar African-design pottery vase. Her vase.

The starlight entering the viewport was somehow soothing, and would have softened the sterility of standard quarters had the walls been military gray and angled oddly, as her previous quarters had been. As it was, all the touches she had felt so important in trying to make her quarters feel like home were merely accents here, adding warmth instead of trying to create it—the vase, formerly placed in a niche on the wall and admired, served a cozier purpose on the dresser; the wallhanging, instead of hiding a bare wall, was draped casually over the easy chair; the amulet and other necklaces, no longer displayed as works of art, mingled on the top of the dresser, ready for her everyday use. Everything dear to her was here.

_But where is here?_

Uhura reached to the bedside table, but there was no comm unit there. A quick scan of the walls revealed that there was no comm unit anywhere in the room.

She pushed the bedcovers aside and discovered the floor was carpeted as she put her feet down, then ascertained she wasn't confined to the bed area by walking to the dresser. She stared for several seconds at the drawers before she realized that the small metallic squares in the lower right hand corners were supposed to be touched in order for the drawers to open.

All her belongings were where she expected them to be, and _were_ what she expected them to be, except for her uniform. She looked thoughtfully at the familiar bright red that now only covered the shoulders of the uniform, and traced with a finger the line where the red became black, the split collar, the gray mock turtleneck showing beneath with two gold pips attached. She pulled the uniform out of the drawer and saw that it was a jumpsuit, not a dress. There were no rank stripes on the sleeves and instead of the _Enterprise_'s stylized arrowhead insignia on the chest with a spiral lightning bolt indicating she belonged to Engineering, Security, and Ship's Services, there was only a metal badge of some kind, the arrowhead shape plain against a split rectangular background.

"So this is Starfleet. But the uniform — the viewport — what's happened?" she asked as she turned away from the dresser—and caught sight of the next room.

It was the biggest living area she'd ever seen.

She changed into her new uniform hastily, unable to believe her eyes. Three floor-to-ceiling viewports provided the backdrop to a comfy-looking sofa and easy chairs with fresh, pleasingly exotic flowers gracing the matching low table. Beyond was an actual dining area with a table and four chairs, their dark wood glowing in the starlight, and beyond that was apparently the work area—if a desk that large and shelves that plentiful could be called a mere work area...

She finally figured out how to get the uniform's stirrups to work with the boots and then stood and carefully checked the doorway to the living area for a force field or other imprisoning device. She could hear no unusual energy signatures when she got close enough to run her hands over the absolutely smooth walls on either side of the doorway. There was no indication of any distortion or energy output across the doorway, but she crossed the threshold carefully anyway in case she was stopped. She wasn't.

She bent to touch the flowers on the table, and the softness of the petals convinced her they were real. One of her constant campaigns had been to relieve the utilitarian feeling of the _Enterprise_, insisting on living things of color and beauty that could be brought into personal cabins (and, as she'd often tried to explain to Mr. Spock, she _didn't_ mean rubber tree plants), that weren't confined to the botany labs or the arboretum—insisting on the oneness of humans and nature even aboard the artificial environment of a starship. And here, flowers seemed to be so abundant you could have them in both bedroom and living area and, she supposed, anywhere you pleased.

The lieutenant scanned the walls of the living area for a comm unit. None. And none on the dining table or desk, either. Then she crossed quickly to the desk, hoping she'd find an indication of a library computer terminal there. But nothing that even remotely reminded her of a tri-d screen and keypad was on, under, or near the desk.

She straightened, musing briefly that she liked the fit and feel of her new uniform better than the old confining dress, and caught sight of herself in a shiny dark panel above a lighted alcove near the dining area. She looked closer, fluffed her hair a little with her fingers and then decided she had more important things to do than fiddle with her looks. She wondered what she would find outside the cabin door. There was only one way to find out.

* * *

Tasha Yar lifted out the contents of a drawer. "It's no use having a new uniform I can conceal weapons in if I—" She slammed the contents back in and repeated the process. "—can't find — any — weapons," she muttered through gritted teeth, looking for a phaser, a knife, anything. It wasn't like her not to have some kind of —

She straightened, frustrated, and folded her arms across her chest, determined to think things through, try to make sense of the information the computer had given her when she'd awakened. The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was battling an abandoned but still functional arsenal on the planet Minos. And then somehow she'd wound up somewhere in the Delta quadrant; the sketchy star charts she'd been able to triangulate from confirmed that.

At least she was aboard a Starfleet vessel, she reasoned. Although she'd never heard of _Voyager_, the security codes that uniquely marked ships of the line worked here. She wasn't in immediate danger. And all of her possessions (except her personal defense devices) were here. Her quarters unnerved her — she had always preferred the smaller, inner corridor cabins because they offered more privacy and defensibility, and had never understood how anyone could consider the dark monotony of space as "scenery" — but she could handle that. She even approved of the looser fit of this uniform. But who or what had brought her here, and how in the galaxy was she supposed to defend herself?

In the complete silence of her cabin she heard the sound of a door opening — muffled but close by, probably next door — and swiftly crossed to her own cabin door. "There'd better be some answers out there," she muttered, not caring now that she hadn't been able to locate a phaser. Quick thinking was going to have to do.

She dimmed the cabin lights, tripped the door opening mechanism then ducked back into the relative cover of the door frame. A woman, lieutenant rank but wearing command red, had just stepped into the corridor and was looking with curiosity into Yar's darkened quarters. She was petite, with expressive dark brown eyes, her black hair worn in a short but elaborate hairstyle. She held herself with easy assurance, certain in her leadership qualities and place in the universe. She was unarmed.

The security chief deliberately stepped into the light of the corridor, poised to take quick action. "Who are you?" she demanded.

Uhura met the wary gray eyes with her own appraising glance. And, despite the other woman's defensiveness and the uncertain situation they found themselves in, she instinctively knew they could be friends. She smiled warmly at the younger woman. "Lieutenant Nyota Uhura. And you?"

Yar found herself relaxing her stance and not able to help a shy smile in response. "Lieutenant Tasha Yar," she answered. "Lieutenant, is this your ship?"

"No. I've never seen anything like this ship before. One moment I'm going to sleep in my cabin, the next I'm here — and this certainly isn't the _Enterprise_."

"It's not, it's _Voyager_, an Intrepid class —" And then Yar frowned, puzzled. "The _Enterprise_? Are you a recent transfer?"

Uhura echoed the frown. "No, I've been aboard the _Enterprise_ for almost two years. And I thought I knew everyone on board by sight…"

"I've been aboard for less than a year, but I'm _sure_ I'd remember someone like you."

The dark-haired lieutenant thought back to the _Enterprise_'s last assignment, trying to remember personnel changes and crew replacements, and wondered aloud, "When Captain Kirk —"

"Captain...Captain James Kirk?" the other woman asked, incredulous.

"Yes." Uhura stared at Yar, uneasy at the tone in her voice. "Why?"

"Captain Kirk hasn't commanded the _Enterprise_ for over — Lieutenant, this is the twenty-fourth century."

A small part of Uhura's mind realized that time displacement would explain the ship, the uniforms, the advanced technology, but the rest of her had gone absolutely numb. "_What_?"

Sympathetic gray eyes held her gaze as Yar took her arm gently. "Come inside, Lieutenant. I don't know what's going on, but maybe you'd better sit down. Let's try to figure this out."

* * *

Kathryn Janeway decided it was going to be one of her more interesting days. Last night she'd been on Deep Space Nine, ready to take _Voyager_ out the next morning to the Badlands to track down a Maquis raider. This morning, she'd awakened aboard a _Voyager_ not only already at warp, but over 70,000 light years from DS9. Charging to the bridge, she'd found the ship on automatic, no bridge crew in sight, and everything in working order. And now, having brought the ship to a full stop and still assimilating where, exactly, she found herself, a crewmember she'd never seen before had reported for duty and told her the most incredible story.

"I'm sorry," Janeway said again to the blonde woman with the strangely woven hair standing uncomfortably at attention in front of her. She decided to take her story one piece at a time. "Your position is what?"

"Captain's Yeoman," Ensign Janice Rand repeated dutifully.

"I don't _have_ a Captain's Yeoman," Janeway pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable voice. "And as far as I know, no captain in the whole fleet has one."

"And as far as _I_ know, there are no female captains in the whole fleet." Rand's eyes met Janeway's, the ensign's bewilderment moving her beyond protocol into a need for simple acknowledgment. "I…I can't explain any of this," she said. "I don't know where I am or who you are or what I'm doing here. The only thing I could think of to do, what might anchor me here, was to report for duty. And now you tell me that I have no duties here."

The captain took a deep breath, understanding the need for a place to belong. "That remains to be seen. Surely you had more training than secretarial to get through the Academy."

"I—originally trained as a helmsman. Captain Kirk knew that and called on me to take the helm in emergency situations."

"Ensign, I can tell you that I have more use for a helmsman than a yeoman, especially given where we are and the situation this ship is in. But in this century helm and navigation have been combined into one station —"

"The conn," Rand supplied, and then stared at Janeway, astonished. "How did I know that?"

"If you're from the twenty-third century, you _couldn't_ know that." She suddenly gestured for Rand to take the seat at conn.

The blonde woman familiarized herself with the readouts and panels, and then ran through the standard diagnostics, calibrating instruments, checking star charts, determining position and projected course. Then she paused. "Captain, indicated course origin is in the Denorios belt in the Alpha quadrant, but there's no evidence whatsoever of how this ship might have gotten from there to here, no plotted course, no fuel consumption, no ion traces — nothing."

Janeway peered over her shoulder. "You're correct. But —"

"— but how can I possibly have figured that out?" Rand finished for her. "The helmsman's station on the Enterprise is nothing like this one, some of this technology I've never seen before, and — and that sector of the Alpha quadrant hasn't even been _explored_ yet, no one's ever gone that far —"

"In this century, we have." The captain laid a hand on Rand's shoulder. "Somehow, Ensign, not only have you been displaced spatially like me, but temporally as well. And at the same time, you've acquired the ability to function as a member of the bridge crew." Her grip tightened, and the ensign turned to face her. "I hereby reassign you to conn officer duties effective immediately, Ensign Rand."

The younger woman's face cleared only a little bit. "Thank you, Captain. At least I have that. But — the rest of it, there's so much that I want answers to — "

"I want those same answers, believe me. But first let's find out where the rest of the crew is."

* * *

"First Officer to Chief of Security."

Yar was seated at the library-computer console with Uhura, who was rapidly coming up to speed on her new time period. The two women traded glances with each other and shook their heads. Neither recognized the voice as her own first officer. Yar tapped her badge. "Lieutenant Tasha Yar here."

"Lieutenant —? Where's Constable Odo?" the irate voice demanded.

"I don't know, sir, but I _am_ the Chief of Security."

"The hell you are!"

"Who is this?" Yar asked cautiously.

"Major Kira Nerys, Bajoran Liaison and First Officer of Deep Space Nine. What by all the Prophets is going on here? Who kidnapped me? What is this ship —"

Suddenly the door to Yar's quarters opened, and the two lieutenants jumped to their feet, startled. A woman with red hair and large dark eyes, apparently the major, who had determined where the Chief of Security's quarters were and had been walking towards it while interrogating Yar over the comm line, strode inside and finished her sentence. "— and where the _hell_ is the Delta quadrant?"

"As I understand it," Uhura said, her sympathetic smile blunting the edge of Kira's defensiveness, "on the other side of the galaxy, and a long, long way from Bajor."

Shock replaced anger in Kira's expression. In a much subdued voice, she said, "I see."

Uhura came around the console and went to the major, introducing, "This is Lieutenant Yar, formerly of the starship _Enterprise_. I'm Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, also formerly of the _Enterprise_, but the original _Enterprise_, from the twenty-third century." She added, sadness touching her self-deprecating humor, "I'm even farther from home than you are, Major."

Uhura's natural warmth bridged the distance between Kira and Yar, women who had learned from hard experience not to give their trust easily. Yar offered a smile. "Welcome aboard _Voyager_, Major."

Kira managed a smile of her own, surprised to find kindred souls even in the middle of whatever it was they found themselves. "_Voyager_," Kira repeated, trying to take it all in. "I don't understand — why me? Why us?"

"We've been trying to figure it out and can't." Yar gestured them all back to the library-computer. "I've been trying to get Nyota caught up on everything she's missed out on. She was a communications officer, but she has the makings of a good chief of operations. Now, I told her about Bajor, but you're going to have to help me out on something. What's Deep Space Nine?"

"It was formerly Terok Nor, a Cardassian mining station." A thought occurred to Kira. "You were on the _Enterprise_ — did you know Miles O'Brien?"

"Yes! You know him?"

"Of course! He and his wife Keiko —"

"His…wife?"

"They have a little girl, Molly…"

Uhura looked from one woman to the other, hearing uncertainty, the beginnings of doubt, in their voices. "Computer," she said, making the request none of them had thought to make. "Stardate."

The dispassionate voice answered, "48315.3."

"Oh, my God…but it's 416 —"

"Prophets, it can't be, it's 47 —"

Uhura put out her hands to Yar and Kira, holding their hands tight. "We're all of us too far from home," she said softly. "But at least we have each other."

The intercom sounded. "Senior officers, to the briefing room."

The three women stood silent, gathering strength and resolve from each other to face whatever came next. "I guess that's us," Uhura said finally. "Ready?"

Kira straightened, the fire back in her eyes, but this time instead of keeping them at bay, the fire encompassed her two new friends. "Ready."

Yar nodded, her cool gray eyes steady with the assurance that she would do all in her power to keep Uhura and Kira safe. "Ready."

Time became even more fluid in the briefing room. Conn Officer Janice Rand had been aboard Uhura's _Enterprise_ until that very day, while Uhura distinctly remembered Rand being transferred to another starship. Head Nurse Christine Chapel not only recalled Rand leaving, but also several missions that to Uhura had yet to occur. Chief Medical Officer Beverly Crusher and Counselor Deanna Troi both remembered an ill-fated visit to Vagra II and were shocked to see Yar alive, while Troi had memories of Crusher becoming Chief of Starfleet Medical and returning to the _Enterprise_ a year later and as far as Crusher knew, she'd never left the _Enterprise_. Science Officer Jadzia Dax from Deep Space Nine had just met a Starfleet lieutenant commander named Worf and Kira had no idea who he was. Chief Engineer B'Elanna Torres had been fighting off Cardassian ships in a Maquis raider and had just entered the Badlands in an attempt to escape. Only Captain Kathryn Janeway seemed to belong to the current point in time.

"I'm...not sure how we find ourselves together," Captain Janeway finally said as they all were reduced to silence by the strangeness of what had happened. "I don't know what the connection is between two different generations of _Enterprise_ crews, Deep Space Nine officers, and crew from both _Voyager_'s original complement and the Maquis raider we were originally sent to rescue, but it appears that all the ship's senior officers, and perhaps the whole crew, are women."

She looked at all the unfamiliar faces around the table and silently blessed each and every one of them for the inner strength and resolve that let them face this situation readily and with a good will. "We are all displaced spatially, and too many of us have been displaced temporally as well such that going home, whatever that may be now to us, is academic at best. And I think we all agree that heading back to the Alpha quadrant simply because that's where we came from is small of both mind and spirit. I know for me it conjures up an image of children in the back of a runabout whining, 'I want to go home _now!'"_

Dax and Troi couldn't help a laugh, and several others, relieved at the lessening of tension in the room, joined in. Torres snorted and rolled her eyes.

"So the most important thing we can do," Janeway continued, "is accept the adventure that has been given to us and make this our home, for all of us, a base we can work from as we explore this quadrant and serve our ship and Starfleet to the best of our abilities. We'll come to know each other, rely on each other, and become more than colleagues to each other. I look forward to working with each of you, getting to know you, and serving with you."

She caught Rand's eye. The ensign had blossomed in the few hours since Janeway had made her Conn Officer, going from unsure deference to competent assurance. Rand gave her a small smile of acknowledgment and gratitude, and offered out loud, "There's an old Earth saying, 'Behind every great man, there's a great woman.' Here, now, that's not true anymore. We're doing it for ourselves."

"And that's the way it should always be," Janeway said. "Let's take our posts."

FIN


End file.
